Black Monday
by Vashti
Summary: A distraught Sharna calls Oz early in the morning.


Disclaimer: I don't own Oz, Joss does. Really. I swear it. I do own Sharna . . .well as much as anyone can own Shar. 

Black Monday 

_For Amz and the late Peggy Lee._

Salon Baby: Peggy Lee died! 

Vashti: I know! 

Salon Baby: tell me you understand 

Vashti: I know, isn't it awful 

Vashti: :( 

Salon Baby: :( 

Salon Baby: gotta write a tribute fic. Oz would understand and probably giles and maybe joyce. Def joyce 

Salon Baby: and that char of yours, shawna 

Vashti: yeah, if sharna were real she'd be devestated 

Salon Baby: good things she's not, heh 

Vashti: :) yeah 

Vashti: so whatcha gonna write? 

"Oz." 

"Hey, Oz. It's Sharna." 

Oz sat up in bed and shifted the phone onto his shoulder. "What's up?" He yawned. 

"Peggy Lee died yesterday morning. Tell me you understand." 

Rubbing the last of a late night gaming with Spike from his eyes he stumbled from bed. He cursed under his breath. 

"Oz?" 

"I'm okay, Shar. Just a little less than graceful. You said Peggy Lee died?" 

"Yeah." He thought he heard her whimper over the lines. "She had a heart attack at her house Monday morning." 

"God, that's awful." Another whimper. "Sharna, you okay?" She may own whatever stage she sang on but Oz knew better. Just because she seemed like a goddess in her jewel-like clothes under the hot light didn't mean she wasn't a woman. Sunnydale had left the prerequisite scars on her just as it had on everyone else who survived past sixteen. 

Sharna sniffed. "Yeah, I'm okay. You know me, sugar, leave me alone and the littlest thing will make me tear right up." 

He knew no such thing. Making a face he knew she couldn't see, Oz kept his silence. 

"Anyway, just called to give you the news. I figured you weren't up yet --" 

"Spike's got me keeping vampire hours." 

Her warm chuckle made the corners of his mouth go up. "How's your little Slayer doing," she asked. "Buffy, right? She didn't seem so hot last I saw her at Spike's crypt." 

This smile, this much more private smile shared with himself, the phone and his instant coffee, was much broader, lighting his face for no one who could see. "She's better. She and Spike are becoming decidedly less vertical." 

"Someone sounds pleased." 

A short bark of laughter escaped him. "You know me too well." Water hot, Oz poured it over his coffee bag and carried it to what served as a kitchen table. 

"Hmph, hardly at all." 

"That's more than most." 

Sharna laughed. "Now isn't that the truth." 

There was a long pause. If it had been anyone else, Oz would have felt compelled to speak...then ignored it. He took the time to pour three heaping tablespoons of sugar into his coffee. Caffeine and sugar -- who needed prozac when he it's cheaper cousin in his cupboard? Not Danny-boy. 

Hmm, channeling Great-Aunt Gretchen was a probably a bad sign. 

"We're doing a Peggy Lee tribute suite at midnight instead of the Bitter Suite," Sharna intruded on his thoughts. Not that Oz wasn't grateful. "You wanna play?" 

"Can't, don't know the songs." Was that rush of air in his ear her disappointed sigh? "But that doesn't mean I can't support. Peggy Lee was a cool chick." 

"Oz, you said chick." 

"Yes, occasionally the male chauvinist pig in me rears its oinking head," he deadpanned. 

Sharna chuckled. "So, you comin' for the entire show or just the tribute?" 

"Well since Frank's paying me to be there from eight I think I'll make the entire show. Who knows, maybe even practice." 

Another silence filled the phone lines. Oz drank his coffee. It had cooled while they talked. Good. Burning his tongue had not been on his list of things to do today. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was still fair game. 

"Hey," his turn to break the silence with a thought, "you mind if Spike and Buffy come?" 

He could almost hear her shrug. "Why should I mind." 

"Didn't think you would but I heard that being polite sometimes sends the pig into hiding." 

"Sure," he could hear her smile, "invite'em, sugar." 

"I'm sure . . . Never mind." 

"What were you gonna say?" 

"That at least Spike would appreciate a tribute to Peggy Lee but he's always struck me as the 'Anarchy' type over 'Fever'." 

"Can't disagree there, but he might surprise you." Her last words flowed over the lines like warm viscous water. Only proximity could make the effect greater. 

"Know something I don't, Shar?" 

Her laughter, this time, was deep, melodic and downright erotic. "Absolutely. Absolutely, sugar. See ya tonight." The phone went dead. 

That last "Absolutely" had held a lot of secrets, one of them being a promise that made the hackles Oz only had monthly want to rise. 

If it had come from anyone else Oz would be on the phone with Buffy, maybe even Giles all the way in England. But it was Sharna and, as she had once told a certain redhead once, she liked getting under his fur. 

Not that he'd ever tell her but she was really good at it. 

Oz hit the power button. He could afford the long distance call, besides, he hadn't talked to Giles in . . .forever. What better way to bond than over the death of a singer whose every vinyl the Englishman owned. Besides, if he was going to send him a copy of tonights little concert he needed the man's address. Then a call to Buffy and a trip to Spike's. He loved Sharna, really he did, but somehow she got him more involved than he ever imagined he would. 

Oh well, the call of the bed would have to wait. 

She really was good at getting under his fur. Too good.   
  



End file.
